mass of manure in which an egg has been laid, and which by rolling in
the dust has now become round and firmly incrusted and smooth. Let us
follow the couple in their apparently aimless though no less expeditious
and vehement labors. They have now brought their globular charge through
the grassy stubble, and have reached a clear spot of earth with
scattered weeds. Of course we all know from the books that their
intention is to find a suitable spot in which to bury this ball, and
such being the case, with what astonishing stupidity do they urge on
that labor! Here certainly is just the right spot for you, Mrs.
Tumble-bug! Stop rolling and dig! But no, she will not listen to reason.
She mounts the top of the ball, and, creeping far out upon it, pulls it
over forward with her back feet, while Mr. Tumble-bug helps her in a
most singular fashion. Does he stand up on his hind legs on the opposite
side, and push with his powerful front feet? Oh no; he stands on his
head, and pushes with his hind legs. As he pushes, and as the ball rolls
merrily on, Mrs. Tumble-bug is continually rolled around with it, and
must needs climb backwards at a lively rate to keep her place. A foot or
two is thus travelled without special incident, when a slight trouble
occurs. The ball has struck an obstacle which neither Mrs. Tumble-bug's
pull nor Mr. Tumble-bug's push can overcome. Then follow an apparent
council and interchange of Tumble-bug talk, until at length both put
their shovel-shaped heads together beneath the sphere, and over it goes
among the weeds. It is soon out again upon the open. Now, Mrs.
Tumble-bug, everything is plain-sailing for you; here is a long down
grade over the smooth clean dirt! Why, the ball would roll down itself
if you would only let it; but, no, she will _not_ let it. She pauses,
and the ball rests, and both beetles now creep about, shovelling up the
dirt here and there with their very queer little flat heads. Ah, perhaps
they are going to start that _hole_ which all the books tell us about.
But no; the place is evidently not quite satisfactory, both of them seem
so to conclude, like two souls with but a single thought. Mrs. T. is up
on the bridge in a jiffy, and Mr. T. takes his place at the helm; and
now what an easy time they will have of it down this little slope; but,
no, again; tumble-bugs don't seem to care for an easy time. A hundred
times on their travels will they pass the very best possible spot for
that burrow, a hundred times will they persist in guiding that little
world of theirs over an obstruction, when a clear path lies an inch to
the right or left of them. And here, when their labors might be so
easily lightened by a downward grade, what do they do? they deliberately
turn the ball about and hustle it along _up hill_, and that too over
dirt that is not half as promising. Up they go! Mrs. T. now seems to
have the best of it, and I sometimes have my suspicions whether she is
not playing a prank on that unsuspecting spouse working so hard at her
back, for he now has not only the ball, but Mrs. T. as well, to shove
along, for the most that she can do is to throw the weight of her body
forward, which in a steep up grade amounts to nothing as a help.
But if she is imposing on Mr. T. in thus guiding the ball up hill, she
soon gets the Roland for her Oliver. Mr. T. is put to great extra labor
by this whimsical decision of hers, and woe to Mrs. T. when that little
chance valley or inequality of surface is reached. Even though she can
see it coming and holds the wheel, she rarely seems to take advantage of
it to save herself or her ship, while Mr. T., going backward in the
rear, of course cannot be expected to know what is coming, nor be blamed
for the consequences. With kick after kick from his powerful hind feet,
united with the push of his mighty pair in front, the ball speeds up the
slope. Now for some reason he gives a backward shove of more than usual
force when it was least necessary. The ball had chanced upon the crest
of a slope, when, kick! over it goes with a pitch and a bound, and Mrs.
T. with it, though this time not on top. Happy is she if the ball simply
rolls upon her and pins her down. Such, indeed, is a frequent episode in
her experience of keeping the ball arolling, but occasionally the
tumble-ball thus started, and out of the control of her spouse at the
rear, may roll over and over for a long-distance, but never alone. No
amount of demoralization of this sort ever surprises her into losing her
grip on her precious globular bundle. When at last it fetches up against
a stone or stick, and she assures herself that she and her charge are
safe and sound, no doubt she immediately mounts to its crest to signal
the lone Mr. T. afar off, who is quickly back of her again, and both are
promptly off on a fresh journey. And so they keep it up, apparently for
sport, perhaps for an hour.
At length when they have played long enough--for there is no other
reason apparent to _homo sapiens_--they decide to plant their big dirty
pellet. The place which they have chosen is not half as promising as
many they have passed, but that doesn't seem to matter. Mrs. T. has
said, "It shall go here," and that ends it.
Then follows the most singular exhibition of excavation and burial. The
ball is now resting quietly on the dirt, and the two beetles are
apparently rummaging around beneath it, trying the ground with the sharp
edge of their shovel-shaped faces. And now, to avoid confusion, we will
dismiss Mr. T., and confine our observation strictly to the female, who
usually (in my experience) conducts the rest of the work alone.
[Illustration: SINKING THE BALL.]
[Illustration: YOUNG TUMBLE-BUG DIGGING OUT FROM HIS DUNGEON.]
She has evidently found a spot that suits her, and we expect her to
fulfil the directions of the books and entomological authorities. She
must "dig a deep hole first, and then roll the ball into it, and fill it
up again." But we will look in vain for such obedience. Instead of this
she persists in ploughing around beneath the ball, which seems at times
almost balanced on her back, until all the earth at this point is soft
and friable, and she is out of sight under it. Presently she appears
again at the surface, and as quickly disappears again, this time going
in upside down beneath the ball, which she pulls downward with her pair
of middle feet, while at the same time with hind legs and powerful
digging front legs she pushes outward and upward the loose earth which
she has accumulated. Visibly the ball sinks into the cavity moment by
moment as the earth is lowered for a space of half an inch in the
surrounding soil, and continually forced upward outside of its
circumference. In a few moments the pellet has sunk level with the
ground, and in a few moments more the loose earth pushed upward has
overtopped it and it is out of sight. Still, for hours this busy
excavator continues to dig her hole and pull the ball in after her with
shovel head and molelike digging feet, scooping out a circular well much
larger than the diameter of the ball, which slowly sinks by its own
weight, aided by her occasional downward pull as this same loosened
earth is pushed upward above it. The burrow is thus sunk several inches,
when the beetle ploughs her way to the surface and is ready for another
similar experience.
The remaining history of the ball and its change is soon told. The egg
within it soon hatches, the larva finding just a sufficiency of food to
carry it to its full growth, when it transforms to a chrysalis, and at
length to the tumble-bug like its parent. The formerly loose earth above
him is now firmly packed, but he seems to know by instinct why those
powerful front feet were given to him, and he is quickly working his way
to the surface, and in a day or so is seen in the barn-yard rolling his
ball as skilfully as his mother had done before him.
Such is the method always employed by the tumble-bug as I have seen him.
And yet I have read in many natural histories and have heard careful
observers claim that the hole is dug first and the ball rolled in.
Perhaps they vary their plan, but I doubt it. Here is a matter for some
of our boys and girls to look into.
[Illustration: THE CAMERA CLUB.]
This Department is conducted in the interest of Amateur
Photographers, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any
question on the subject so far as possible. Correspondents should
address Editor Camera Club Department.
OUR PRIZE OFFER.
The members of the Camera Club will notice that our competition this
year is confined to three subjects or classes--Marines, Landscapes, and
Figure Studies. All the prizes are in money, and there are ten prizes.
The members are not restricted as to the number of prints they may send
in, nor are they barred from any class. A member may compete in each of
the five classes, and has ten chances of winning a prize.
We want every Knight and Lady of our Camera Club to compete for these
prizes. We also want you to tell your friends about them, and get them
to join the Camera Club. A circular which tells all about the Club has
just been issued by Harper & Brothers. It tells what the Club is for,
gives prospectus for the coming year, gives the formula for plain paper,
which so many of you have been writing about, and also gives the prize
offers, rules, etc., of the competition. Copies of the circular will be
sent to any member who applies for them, and we would like each member
to help in distributing them.
Last year but few Ladies of the ROUND TABLE sent in pictures for the
prize competition. This year we want all the Ladies who belong to the
Camera Club to send in pictures. One of the Sir Knights who took a prize
last year was so encouraged by his success that he has been working
steadily all the year, and has made quite a good deal of money. A letter
received from him a few weeks ago states that he should never have
thought of making money with his camera if he had not won a prize, but
the ten-dollar check which he received for his picture suggested to him
that if he could take a picture good enough to win a prize he could take
good enough pictures to sell. He has made pictures of boats, of
children, of pets, of buildings in process of erection--in fact, of
anything which came in his way which he could get pay for, and the
result is that he has a snug sum in the bank, and looks on his camera as
a financial friend.
Working for a prize stimulates one to do his best, and even though one
should not be fortunate enough to win a prize the effort to excel will
not be lost. It will be a help in more ways than one. This year we hope
that at least half of the prizes will be carried off by our Ladies. A
camera is specially adapted to be a girl's companion and source of
pleasure. Cameras are now made so very light and compact that they are
no burden to carry, and if one uses films they are still lighter. Girls
as a rule are more careful workers than boys, and should therefore make
the best amateur photographers, for it takes care as well as skill to
produce a good picture.
Look over your pictures that you have made this summer, select those
which you think are the best, finish them up in a neat and tasteful
manner, and send them in before the competition closes. If you have none
which you think worthy of a prize, set about making some without delay.
If you do not win a prize you will have the benefit of careful
criticism, and will stand a better chance of winning another time.
Any questions in regard to the prizes, or about making pictures for the
competition, will be answered promptly.
SIR KNIGHT ALFRED C. BAKER encloses two very pretty waterscapes,
and asks the cause of the black marks near the edge of one of the
pictures, and also asks to have the pictures criticised, both from
a technical and artistic point. The black spots, as far as can be
judged from the finished print, seems to be caused by scratches on
the film. If so, the print can be trimmed just enough to cut them
off from the picture. The print which is numbered 141 is the
better picture. It has more contrast of light and shade, the
perspective is better. The old log in the foreground and the
stretch of shore give the effect of distances which the other
picture lacks. Another thing which makes this picture more
attractive than the other is the slight ripple on the water. It
has the same effect as do clouds in the sky. If Sir Alfred will
study the two prints he will readily see what is meant. No. 140
would be improved if about half an inch of the foreground were
trimmed away. No. 141 would make a very nice platinum print or
plain-paper print.
THE BELLS OF NINE O'CLOCK.
Sleigh-bells in winter, ship's bells at sea,
Church bells on Sunday--oh! many bells there be--
But the cheery bells of nine o'clock
Are the merriest bells for me.
School bells at nine o'clock, and straightway the street
Breaks into music with the rush of little feet.
Clatter, patter, swift they go, wide stands the door,
School bells are ringing now, holidays are o'er.
Silver bells and golden bells, and bells with iron throats,
Cowslip bells and lily bells, and bells with tripping notes,
Oh! many bells and merry bells, and liquid bells there be,
But the sturdy bells of nine o'clock are the dearest bells for me.
M. E. S.
[Illustration: THE PUDDING STICK]
This Department is conducted in the interest of Girls and Young
Women, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on
the subject so far as possible. Correspondents should address
Editor.
What must I wear? is a question quite often on girlish lips, and a
girl's satisfaction with herself depends a good deal on the answer to
it. Nobody enjoys being badly or strikingly dressed, and in this matter
I am much of the opinion of Mrs. John Hancock, the great lady whose
husband's signature stands out so splendidly on our Declaration of
Independence. Mrs. Hancock said in substance that she could not approve
of a girl who was indifferent to her dress, nor of one who showed that
she was thinking about it, and that she was pleased with the effect she
made. A girl must not strut about like a vain peacock; she must wear her
clothes as the plant wears its flowers--unconsciously.
If you are sensible and clear-headed girls you will not wish to have
many frocks at once. A strong serviceable serge for every-day wear, a
pretty cashmere or silk for best, a simple white frock for evening, two
or three separate waists, and an extra skirt to relieve the serge, are
sufficient for the winter wardrobe of a well-dressed young girl. In
summer one requires more changes, but print and muslin and gingham
frocks are cheap, and, if neatly made, are always appropriate. Of
under-clothing have as simple a supply as you can take care of. The
dainty girl likes to be clothed in fresh and clean garments next the
skin, and where her clothing is not seen. These garments may be of fine
and nice material, but the school-girl and the young woman should avoid
elaborate frills and puffs and tucks, embroideries and laces, for these
are easily torn, and are hard upon the laundress. Of stockings a
half-dozen pairs are necessary, of handkerchiefs two or three dozen, and
of linen for the neck and wrists enough to insure one's personal perfect
neatness on every occasion. Gloves and shoes are important parts of a
young lady's outfit. Of the former two pairs, one for best and one for
common wear, will probably be enough to have at once, and of the latter,
if you can afford it, have three or four pairs, for out-door and in-door
uses. A young woman whose gloves and boots are good of their kind, and
in nice order, will always appear well dressed. A water-proof cloak, a
thick warm jacket, and two hats, one a toque, trim and dainty, the other
a wider and more picturesque affair, with a brim, and feathers, ribbons,
or flowers for trimming, will meet all exigencies. Don't wear birds or
wings on your hats. No ROUND TABLE Lady must countenance the cruel
killing of little birds that her hat may be adorned in a barbaric
fashion. The prejudice humane people feel against the wearing of slain
birds does not extend to ostrich feathers.
[Illustration: Signature]
SOME CURIOUS FACTS CONCERNING HEARING.
An inquiry was recently made in London as to the greatest distance at
which a man's voice could be heard, leaving, of course, the telephone
out of consideration. The reply was most interesting, and was as
follows: Eighteen miles is the longest distance on record at which a
man's voice has been heard. This occurred in the Grand Canon of the
Colorado, where one man shouting the name "Bob" at one end his voice was
plainly heard at the other end, which is eighteen miles away. Lieutenant
Foster, on Parry's third arctic expedition, found that he could converse
with a man across the harbor of Port Bowen, a distance of 6696 feet, or
about one mile and a quarter: and Sir John Franklin said that he
conversed with ease at a distance of more than a mile. Dr. Young records
that at Gibraltar the human voice has been heard at a distance of ten
miles.
Sound has remarkable force in water. Colladon, by experiments made in
the Lake of Geneva, estimated that a bell submerged in the sea might be
heard a distance of more than sixty miles. Franklin says that he heard
the striking together of two stones in the water half a mile away. Over
water or a surface of ice sound is propagated with great clearness and
strength. Dr. Hutton relates that on a quiet part of the Thames near
Chelsea he could hear a person read distinctly at the distance of 140
feet, while on the land the same could only be heard at 76 feet.
Professor Tyndall, when on Mont Blanc, found the report of a pistol-shot
no louder than the pop of a champagne bottle. Persons in a balloon can
hear voices from the earth a long time after they themselves are
inaudible to people below.
ON BOARD THE ARK.
BY ALBERT LEE.
CHAPTER VIII.
The Lion bowed in a dignified manner to the Gopher, and rapped on the
table again to bring the Parrots to order, and then the Gopher said,
very slowly and deliberately:
"When is a door not a door?"
The animals stared at one another, and whispered, and gazed up and down
the table as if they thought they might possibly derive inspiration from
the dishes. Tommy and the ex-Pirate said not a word. Presently the
Gopher repeated:
"When is a door not a door?"
But no one could guess, and after a few moments more of anxious and
strained silence the Gopher said:
"I suppose I shall have to tell you. A door is not a door when it is
ajar."
[Illustration: THE ANIMALS ROARED WITH LAUGHTER AT THE GOPHER'S JOKE.]
The animals fairly roared and shrieked with laughter. They bellowed and
howled and pounded on the table, and the Gopher became so much affected
with appreciation of his own wit that he fell over backwards, and almost
stunned a Newfoundland puppy who was trying to get his nose above the
table to see what it was all about. Tommy had never realized before what
the expression "to roar with laughter" really signified, and he
concluded he never wanted to experience such a realization again. The
noise was so great that he had to put his fingers to his ears. When the
merriment had partially subsided, the little boy leaned over to the
ex-Pirate and said:
"I have heard that joke before; haven't you?"
"Indeed I have," answered the ex-Pirate, "many a time."
"It's an awfully old one, isn't it?"
"I always suspected it was first gotten off in the Ark," said the
ex-Pirate, shaking his head knowingly; "but I did not know the Gopher
was responsible for it."
By this time the animals had recovered themselves, and some were
shouting to the Gopher for more jokes. He got up and protested that he
did not know any more; and then, suddenly pointing to the ex-Pirate, he
exclaimed:
"He's a funny one. He can _recite_ things!"
Thereupon the animals all gazed at the ex-Pirate, and the Lion said,
"Recite things."
The ex-Pirate never needed much urging to do this sort of thing, and so
when Tommy whispered to him to read the seventeenth chapter of his
autobiography which he knew his friend had in his pocket, and of which
the little boy had only heard the first few lines, the ex-Pirate arose,
and, bowing in his usual way to all his hearers, he pulled his
manuscript from his coat and began to read:
The following day the sun rose up as usual from the East.
The sea was calm, the sky was clear, the stormy winds had ceased;
The _Black Avenger_ sped along before a gentle breeze,
And the starboard watch loafed on the deck in true piratic ease.
I took my breakfast down below, and when I came on deck
I looked about, and far away I saw a little speck
Upon the blue horizon, and I knew it was a sail.
For, in matters of this nature, my eyesight could not fail.
I called my swarthy Bo's'n, and I said to him, said I:
"If we don't overtake that ship, I'll know the reason why;
If we don't overtake her ere the sun shines overhead
I'll cut the whiskers off the crew before I go to bed!"
The Bo's'n nodded cheerfully and swore a fearful oath,
(He called upon the Sun and Moon, and scandalized them both,)
And then he hitched his trousers up and piped his whistle shrill,
And made the loafing pirates heave the halyards with a will.
The _Black Avenger_ sped along and ploughed the boiling sea,
The rigging creaked, the sails stood out, the foam flew fast and free.
The pirates gathered on the deck and buckled on their swords,
Rolled up their sleeves, and combed their beards, and spoke piratic
words.
But suddenly the Bo's'n came a-rushing up to me,
His face was pale, his nose was red, he spoke: "Good sir," said he,
"Yon vessel is from Switzerland, and, verily, I fear
We'll find she is not what she seems, as soon as we get near;
She looks to me as though she might--might be a privateer"
(But when he found she wasn't one, he shed a private tear.)
Said I: "Load up the cannons, boys, with ten-pound cannon-balls;
I care not what yon ship may be, into my hands she falls!
We'll take her, and we'll take her guns, her captain, and her crew,
Her cook, her cabin steward, and her precious cargo, too!"
So the Gunner and the Gunner's Mate they lifted up the hatch,
And they called upon the pirates who formed the starboard watch
To help them lift the cannon-balls from out the magazine
Where all the cannon-balls were kept, wrapped up in bombazine.
But presently the Gunner's Mate came rushing to the rail,
His hair was standing up on end, his face was very pale,
He cried: "Oh, Captain, woe is me, no cannon-balls are left;
Of shot and shell of every kind the magazine's bereft.
There's not a piece of shrapnel, no canister or grape,
There's not enough of buckshot to kill a good-sized ape!"
The Bo's'n, who stood near at hand, gazed sadly at us both,
And then he pulled his pistols out and swore a mighty oath:
"How shall we take yon Switzer ship," he said, "without a shell?"
"We've _got_ to fight," I answered him. "Won't cheese do just as
well?"
For, two days previously, you know, we met a brigantine
From Amsterdam for Zululand, by name the _Bandoline_,
And in her hold she carried a fine cargo, if you please,
Consisting of a hundred thousand dozen Edam cheese.
We took a hundred dozen and stowed them on the poop
Between the after cannon and the Captain's chicken-coop.
(The crew had used the cheeses and some bottles from the galley,
The day before, to improvise a sort of bowling-alley.)
Said I: "We'll take these Edam cheese and put them in the guns,
And shoot them at the Switzer ship until she sinks or runs;
For surely such proceeding will be worse than shot or shell,
Just think of being _hit_ with cheese--say nothing of the smell!"
The pirates laughed and vowed my scheme would give them lots of fun;
And soon a big, red, round, Dutch cheese was rammed in every gun.
It was not long before the _Black Avenger_ came abreast
And hailed the ship from Switzerland with true piratic zest;
But not a Switzer said a word, nor made they any sign,
But all the sailors on the ship were ranged along in line,
And leaned upon the starboard rail, with sunken pallid cheeks
As though they had not tasted food for six or seven weeks.
The swarthy Bo's'n hailed again, and as no answer came
The Gunner's Mate averred it was high time to start the game.
I spoke the word, and seven guns all loaded up with cheese
Were fired at the Switzer ship as nicely as you please;
And then a second volley went, and soon again a third.
And when the smoke had cleared away we saw what had occurred.
Each cheese had hit the Switzer ship and flattened on her decks,
The Switzer men were wading in the cheese up to their necks.
We waited then to see what sort of fighting they would make,
And wondered how much cheese these Switzer sailor-men could take.
But as we waited silence came all o'er the Switzer craft,
And not a seaman seemed to move, or forward or abaft.
I called the Bo's'n to the bridge, and "Take the gig," said I;
"Go board yon ship, where all is still, and learn the reason why."
The Bo's'n quick got in the gig with sixteen of the crew,
He took along a cannon and an Edam cheese or two,
And half an hour he was gone, then slowly rowed he back;
He said to me: "Good Captain," he sobbed, "alas, alack!
Upon that floating vessel there's no one left to fight;
There's not a living creature, not a living thing in sight.
No man remains to give reply to any kind of question:
The Switzers ate up all the cheese, and died of indigestion."
There was another great demonstration of approval as soon as the
ex-Pirate had concluded, but Tommy paid little attention to the noise
this time, because he had become somewhat accustomed to it.
"You see," said the ex-Pirate, apologetically, "I could not very well
read anything like that--all about cheese--in the presence of the Welsh
Rabbit; could I?"
"Of course not," agreed Tommy; "but is it true that--"
"I say," interrupted the Gopher, leaning in front of Tommy and
addressing himself to the ex-Pirate; "I know another joke now. I know
what the Bo's'n said to the Gunner's Mate when he told him to shoot at
the ship."
"Well, what did he tell him?" asked the ex-Pirate, incautiously.
"Cheese it!" shouted the Gopher, who was immediately seized with such a
violent fit of laughter that he fell under the table, and almost buried
himself under the pile of broken soup plates.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
[Illustration: INTERSCHOLASTIC SPORT]
[Illustration: THE CASCADILLA CREW AND BOAT-HOUSE.]